


Hold On (We're Gonna Make It)

by blackorchids



Category: To All the Boys I've Loved Before Series - Jenny Han, To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before (2018)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Future Fic, Love Letters, Male-Female Friendship, Romantic Fluff, Sister-Sister Relationship, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:54:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21656347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackorchids/pseuds/blackorchids
Summary: It's Lara Jean's turn to get a surprise love letter in the mail.
Relationships: Josh Sanderson & Lara Jean Song-Covey, Katherine "Kitty" Song-Covey & Lara Jean Song-Covey, Peter Kavinsky/Lara Jean Song-Covey
Comments: 10
Kudos: 181





	Hold On (We're Gonna Make It)

**Author's Note:**

> Uh I found a "December writing prompts" post and the first one was **receive** , and the only thing I could come up with that wasn't smut was _receiving a letter_ , which reminded me of THIS.
> 
> Title from the song _Where We Belong_ by Thriving Ivory, which was playing over a shipper video on youtube that I was watching while writing this (it was not from this fandom)

She’s been dating Peter _for real_ for the better part of senior year when Kitty comes in one afternoon with a handful of mail, bike helmet still on her head. She’s sorting through the pile of bills with a bored look twisting her face, and her soccer uniform is _disgusting_ and it’s taking everything in Lara Jean to keep from telling her to change—

—or go hose off in the yard—

—because Kitty will definitely try to hug her if she brings up the amount of sweat and filth encrusted on those blue shorts and the red jersey with their name emblazoned on the back.

“Did the Yale letter come?” Lara Jean asks her instead, setting her notebook down on the coffee table in front of her and twisting to try and see Kitty better. She closes her Calculus textbook with a drawn-out huff of a sigh, had been trying for more than an hour to work out the six problem sets they’d been assigned, reveling in the opportunity to work unimpeded by Peter’s ridiculous studying tactics. 

Had been _trying_ , but was, unfortunately, too distracted with thinking about the dress she was envisioning herself wearing to the senior prom in a couple months’ time. Margo would be home for Easter holidays to help her shop for it, not that she really had any idea what sort of dress she was actually interested in.

“No letter from— _Yale_ ,” Kitty says, voice oddly lilting, the whites of her teeth flashing in a smug grin, noticeable more so than usual because of the mud streaked across her face.

The disappointment at the missing Yale letter comes fast—she’d gotten two acceptances and one rejection, and Stanford and Whitworth were both _great_ schools, but she desperately wanted to _know_ , despite the fact that she was still pretty sure she wanted to go to Whitworth and stay close to her father and Kitty.

It fades fast too, though, when Kitty’s expression doesn’t falter, and Lara Jean unfolds her legs to stand and dart towards her. The element of surprise might work on mere mortals, though, but Kitty has always been a different calibre, and she’s quick to run into the kitchen, edging around the island and dragging Lara Jean into a fruitless game of cat-and-mouse.

She’s laughing, the sound bubbling out of her as she moves left and right, keeping Lara Jean at the same too-far distance and feeling secure in the knowledge that Lara Jean probably won’t tackle her while she’s so gross.

Lara Jean’s been dating Peter for the better part of their senior year though, which means she doesn’t hesitate for too long before feinting left and clamoring atop the island, scooting across it and taking advantage of Kitty’s uncharacteristic shock. It’s _also_ thanks to Peter that Lara Jean is able to bite back her aversion to grime and half-tackle her sister, trying to reach the mysterious letter that Kitty is still managing to keep away from her.

“Give it to me!” Lara Jean shouts, twisting one of Kitty’s arms away and pressing closer, trying to pin her against the sink.

“No!” Kitty shouts back, wiggling like crazy to try and free herself.

“It’s mine!”

“You could’ve asked nicely!”

Kitty escapes then, and _lucky her_ their dad walks in through the front door just in time for her to hide behind him. Josh is with him, because he and Lara Jean are for-real best friends again, thank goodness. Both of them are hardly shocked to find Kitty and her fighting like this, but their dad does hoist Kitty up by her armpits, uncaring of the drying mud that is crumbling onto his neatly pressed silk shirt.

“What does Lara Jean want?”

“My letter!” Lara Jean yelps, scowling at her father when he gives her a warning look that keeps her from advancing much farther.

“Does this seem familiar to anyone else?” Josh asks the room at large, and their dad laughs, still holding Kitty hostage. Lara Jean is privately impressed, had not known her dad was still so strong, but she’s more focused on getting the letter. Josh plucks it from Kitty’s grasp, smooths it out against his thigh and confirms that it’s Lara Jean’s by reading the address written on the front.

“Why did you have Lara Jean’s letter?” their dad asks Kitty, who scoffs.

“If I don’t read it first, I won’t get to read it _at all_!”

Lara Jean narrows her eyes at Kitty, unable to help herself. They might have been getting along better lately, but Kitty would always be her annoying baby sister first and foremost.

Their dad validates her by laughing again, but he doesn’t let Kitty go free until Josh has crossed the room and given the letter, a little worse for wear now, to Lara Jean.

“It’s up to Lara Jean if she lets you know what the letter says,” their dad tells them in his practiced _dad voice_. “Privacy, even among sisters, is very important.”

“Ugh,” Kitty says, lips curling up in an over dramatic display of distaste. “I hate when you get all parenting-manual on us.”

All three of them watch Lara Jean fold the envelope up and tuck it into her hoodie pocket, and then Josh shrugs and heads into the living room. “Are you ready to tackle this Am-Gov essay?”

This is sufficiently distracting for Kitty, since she’s been pretty firm in her anarchist phase ever since the most recent presidential election. She follows Josh into the living room, ranting about the electoral system, and finally their dad makes his way further into the house, hugging Lara Jean on his way to the kitchen. Six turkey legs have been defrosting on the stove all afternoon, and Lara Jean watches as he brushes loose dirt off his chest and ties his blue apron around his waist.

“Alexa, how do I cook turkey legs?” her dad asks the room, and then listens intently as their little home-robot starts telling him the steps in her too-fast robot voice.

Lara Jean figures Josh and Kitty can handle themselves for a few minutes, so she rushes up the stairs to change her dusty leggings and switch hoodies for one that’s cleaner. If it just _happens_ to be one of Peter’s huge lacrosse hoodies, that’s just coincidence.

She does take a few extra minutes to lock herself in hers and Kitty’s shared bathroom, sitting on the edge of the tub and sliding her finger under the sealed flap of the pale green envelope, trying to open it with as little tearing as possible.

Inside is a now-creased card with a happy sunshine on the front, and Lara Jean can feel a reluctant smile pulling at her lips. She makes a cursory attempt at smoothing the card out a little more, but she’s quick to flip it open, eyes widening at the sheer amount of writing on the inside of what had once been one of those blank any-occasion cards.

_Hi Lara Jean,  
I saw this card while I was buying gum and a pack of Yakult drinks for Kitty and it made me smile and I thought of you. I know I haven’t sent you a note since we ditched the contract, but I figured it was about time that I send you a love letter in the mail, since I still have yours.  
I am writing this to tell you I love you. You make me laugh like no one else can, and you know me better than anyone else.  
I know you’ve been worrying about what we’ll do when we go off to college, and I have too. But it’ll be fine. We’re gonna be okay, and it’ll all work out. I’m gonna marry you one day, Lara Jean Covey.  
Love, Peter_

Lara Jean wipes at her eyes a little, sniffling for a second before she collects herself. She feels like fizz is rising beneath her skin, up her chest and across her collar bones and bubbling in her blood, she’s so overwhelmed and happy. 

She’s about to press the card closed again when she notices something very small, in the corner of the card and even harder to read than the rest of Peter’s terrible handwriting, there’s a post-script.

_ps: happy anniversary of our first kiss_

Lara Jean blinks, squinting at it. For long minutes, she has no idea what he’s talking about: it’s not late enough in the year for him to be referencing their kiss when they were faking it, and they hadn’t been together long enough for any of their real firsts to reach _anniversary status_ yet.

Abruptly, through, she realizes what he’s talking about, and blushes so deeply she’s sure her face is going to catch the shower curtain on fire.

It has been five years and some-days since Peter and her had kissed at John Ambrose’s boy-girl party. Lara Jean tries to control her expression, but she can hardly decide if she’s pleased or embarrassed or fond or _what_.

That _boy_.

**Author's Note:**

> come talk to me on [tumblr](http://www.rosalinesbenvolio.tumblr.com/ask/)!


End file.
